I suppose that I could tell you where I have been and what I have been doing, but at this moment in time it feels like some kind of justification for being an absent friend. I could moan my life away, because there is enough drama for a long running TV show documenting the lives of the ordinary.

At the moment I do not want to feel ordinary. I want to feel like I am making a mark on the world a significant and enduring mark. My friend is going to Africa, India is not enough now, the universe has spoken. I have already told her that I am small minded and jealous. Somehow, my plans and projects are not enough, based as they are in my own country. Lacking the exotic and the erotic, I am feeling small.

I am wroking in my charity and I am developing a Creative Writing course for hard to reach people. I have a theme, a programme of work and a client group to deliver it to and I have created this with in 2 days, somehow it is not enough. I was told to dream big, but the dreams are not forth coming.

I wrote this as a responce to my own project…

The Wallpaper

was anaglypta. If I watched it long enough my eyes would convince my mind that out was in and in was out. In out, in out. Shuffling my feet to find the warm spot, cold spot, warm spot; my body still pushed into hers, my arm still slung over her torso to feel the blanket of her hand over mine.

Warm, cold, in, out, me, her, we, us. She, chest rising and falling, anchored me in safety, allowing me to explore past, present, future, providing a safe retreat in the form of a sleeping woman. Grandma, if you only knew how many hours I had lain there in the rythm. If you only knew the bitter sweet sensation of the change in tempo as you woke and turned to smile.

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